


I Feel My Luck Could Change

by ThisIsMyDesignHannibal



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Almost Fisting, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Licking (mild), Bondage, Choking, Finger Sucking, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand porn, Jean loves Adam, Kissing, Le Chiffre's name is Jean, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Licking, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Royale Instinct Weekend, Vein Licking, long lost lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal/pseuds/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal
Summary: My contribution toRoyale Instinct Weekend!!!Le Chiffre (Jean) has returned yet again to the place of a long-lost whirlwind romance, as always secretly hoping to see Adam again after all this time. His luck has been bad since he lost him all those years ago, but maybe his luck has changed.





	I Feel My Luck Could Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slashyrogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/gifts), [shoegazerx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoegazerx/gifts).



> This is my first rare-pair and I had so much fun with them! I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Enormous thanks to my amazing beta [fragile-teacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup) !
> 
> Special thanks also to [nightliferogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightliferogue/pseuds/nightliferogue) and [shoegazerx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoegazerx/pseuds/shoegazerx) for putting on this fest and for their encouragement to give these two boys a try! <3

 

 

“The bet is to you Monsieur Le Chiffre.”

€87K in the pot. He had the makings of a flush and he was quite sure the overly tanned American seated across from him was bluffing. The man was practically leering at him. He had a comb-over and a diamond encrusted pinky ring in the shape of an ace of spades that made Jean overly aware of the knife sitting snug in his pocket.

It was all he could do to keep from letting loose an enormous sigh. He was immensely bored.

“Monsieur Le Chriffe? The bet is to you.”

Jean narrowed a hard stare at the dealer.

_Don’t push me you little shit._

The man shrunk in his seat slightly, offering a deferential incline of his head.

Jean made them wait a few seconds more. Perhaps he was a more keyed-up than he cared to admit. But he always was when he came to this hotel.

_I hate Monaco. Why do I insist on coming back here?_

He knew the answer to that, but he pushed it away, flicking his two chips reflexively as he stared down the man across from him, now beginning to look increasingly unsure and trying to cover it with a large swig of his drink.

“I call.” Jean tossed his chips lazily, looking around. He really did need to find a better table.

_Or you could just leave this place. Stop torturing yourself._

_He’s not going to be here. He never is._

“Very good Sir. Your cards, gentlemen.”

He trained his eyes back on the American as he tossed out his cards and the dealer unveiled the winning hand. His, of course. This was the only moment that gave him any real pleasure anymore, fleeting as it was. Catching that reflexive wince, starting in the eyes before resonating through their entire bodies. As if they felt a knife slipping slowly between their ribs. That deep hurt they tried so hard not to show when he took what was theirs.  It was… intimate. Almost.

“You smug bastard.”  The American appeared to talking to him. It was like the hum of a mosquito.

“Yes? You have something to say?” Jean watched the man recoil as if he’d been slapped. He threw him a hard look, that look he knew put ice in people’s bellies. Jean knew his eyes unnerved people. The man dropped his stare and Jean made moves to get up from the table.

“At least give me a chance to make my money back, for Christ’s sake.” The man said it through gritted teeth, eyes cast down towards his lap, but adopted a more respectful tone.

“I suppose I could allow you to entertain that possibility for one more hand. I’ve had my eye on something pretty.” Jean threw a pointed look to the provocatively dressed young woman standing behind the American. She looked incredibly bored, her hand dutifully resting on the old man’s shoulder like it was scripted, but she perked up under Jean’s gaze. Not that he was interested in the slightest.

_They’re never him. Are they? No one ever comes close._

Jean unbuttoned his jacket again and sat back down, allowing himself an audible sigh that he hoped came across merely as bored indulgence.

_Forget it. Forget him. He’s not going to be here. He’s not coming and he never will._

As they went through the motions of another hand, Jean couldn’t help but realize how often this conversation ran through his head; an earworm, stuck on repeat and making him ever more bitter each and every time he returned to this hotel.

Once a year, every year, for seven years.

_A fool’s errand._

How different things had seemed back then. Full of excitement. Full of possibilities. Before all that disastrous business with the Africans and MI6. Before he had started taking unnecessary risks just to feel something again.

_Before the cold seeped in. Before your heart froze over._

_You did it to yourself. You turned him away._

Jean stared the American down. He felt the ruthlessness rising up inside him. The urge to hurt. He flicked his chips again and again and again, his fingers beginning to sting regardless of how ingrained the motion was.  He tried to focus on it. That tiny pain. Better that at least than the deep ache growing in his chest.

_Why won’t you say his name? Do you remember what he smelled like? How he tasted? Remember how he smiled at you._

His chest grew tighter the more he thought of him. Still, he couldn’t help it. Not here in this hotel. The memories of that lost week together were just too close here, as if seven years had flashed by in an instant. Years he’d rather forget.

“Monsieur?”

“Raise. Forty thousand.” Pushed the tiles into the center and watched the other man chew on his lip.

He pulled on his puffer. Let the American think he was sweating a bad hand. Jean played on autopilot. Mathematically precise bets came easy, but he could feel himself pushing his odds more and more. Recklessness in certainty. At least it was better than this cold boredom.

_You remember how he warmed you? How he brought you to life… if only for a short time. And only to make what came after seem all the colder._

His resolve not to think of it, usually iron-clad, was weakening in the familiarity of this place. He knew that was why he came here, year after year, but it didn’t make it any easier. Jean took another deep pull on his inhaler, pushed a large stack of chips into the center of the table, and let the memories engulf him completely; a sudden rush of heat, enticingly dangerous, like holding his hand to a flame. Just to feel it.

_A green scarf coiling around pale skin. Tightening. A tempting serpent, like the answering smile coiling on lips that coaxed, inviting him in — to taste, to know. Just one taste, one bite of that tempting sweetness enough to sour him each and every day he’d spent without it since. It wasn’t mere knowledge that had felled him that day. To know that feeling for the first time… to fall… don’t say it… how he’d clamped a hand over his mouth as if to push the words back in. He’d never felt it before or since. He didn’t want to._

Those curls. It seemed he saw them everywhere. The back of each dark head sitting at the bar a possibility, each trim back turned away from him an echo that made him look twice. It was always like this.

Hope was a vicious thing.

_That one, leaning on the bar with his back to you. Nice suit. Insolent posture. Trim waist. Those curls. Shorter, but still... That could be him, standing right there._

_Could be. Won’t be._

But still. His heart was in his throat. He glared daggers at the man’s back, willing him to obey, to turn around and face him. _To be him._

“Monsieur Le Chiffre? Sir, the bet is yours.”

He could feel the sneer on his lip as he shoved most of his remaining chips and tiles into the centre of the table, more to shut the dealer up than for any other reason. His mind had seized on this one possibility, silently commanding the man at the bar to turn. Jean needed to know it wasn’t _him_ before he would be able to focus on the game. He could feel the blood tear rising in his eye, the world awash in crimson.

_I would make the world bleed for it to be him._

_Him._

_Say his name._

He felt his lips curl silently around the syllables, like an incantation that required a blood sacrifice, something that weakened you before it let you have your heart’s desire…

_Adam._

The man at the bar turned. Their eyes locked.

_Not possible._

Everything stopped. Everything.

 _Adam_.

Dimly Jean could hear the dealer insisting that he place his bet, the American beginning to make impotent noises of outrage and impatience. But all he could see was the look on Adam’s face, likely mirroring his own with that same strange symmetry they had felt all those years ago.

Shock. Fear. Amusement. Uncertainty. Incredulity. Desire

Longing.

If it was possible, the years had only made him more beautiful; hair a little shorter, thick stubble defining what had once been smooth cheeks, a perfectly cut suit showing wider shoulders, a deeper chest — youth had been pushed aside to reveal the man beneath. It all served to give him an air of gravity, age allowing the edge that had always lurked beneath that angelic, youthful face to show through.

Now that this moment had actually come, Jean was rooted in place by alien indecision. For once, the man everyone alive knew only as Le Chiffre, everyone save the remarkable man standing at the bar, was at a complete loss of how to proceed.

Adam hadn’t moved either. It seemed he was almost asking him something, silently from across the room, those merciless blue eyes pinning him in place. No, not asking. He was demanding. Demanding a response, demanding that Jean be the first to move, to declare his intentions. This man, who with only a single look had already stripped him of all his hard-won armour…

_How dare you._

It was all too much, this… exposure. He felt like his ribcage had been ripped open and laid bare for all to see his racing heart. Anger rising, Jean wanted his armour back. He did his best to pull _Le Chiffre_ back around him, that cold shell... He held Adam’s stare for a moment longer, watched it falter as he blinked the blood tear out of his eye and left it to roll down his cheek. He waited until he saw Adam’s eyebrows draw down, that stubborn set to his mouth so achingly familiar it helped Jean to force his eyes down and away, to break the eye contact, fixing them instead on the exasperated dealer.

“Monsieur, with respect, I really must _insist_ you play.”

Even from this distance, he heard Adam’s drink smash down on the bar, heard the strained, upper-class gasps at the shocking sound of breaking glass. From the corner of his eye, he saw Adam stride out of the bar. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.

“Monsieur Le Chiffre! Your bet, Sir!”

_Are you really going to let him leave? Again?_

“Sir… I really must…”

“I fold.”

Jean left them there, dumbfounded and gasping like floundering fish, as he stood and threw his, very likely winning, hand onto the table and followed Adam out into the lobby.

His stomach dropped as he spilled out of the casino and into the bright opulence of the main lobby, looking in all directions. It was almost empty at this late hour, but Adam wasn’t anywhere. He couldn’t see him.

_Damn you. I’ll find you. I can practically smell you._

His mind seized on predatory anger to ward off the complexity of emotion roiling in his gut. He felt for the outline of the knife in his pocket. The knife Adam had given him so long ago. Memories were flooding him now, entirely unchecked. That same knife placed in his hand. Adam’s provocative smile as he did so, the ghost of his lips against his ear. _In case you need to cut me loose._ His gut clenched once more at that. Impossible pleasure. Impossible closeness. Jean was shaking with the memory of it all, so long pushed diligently out of mind. His eyes scanned the room again, all senses on high alert.

 _There_ . _The elevators._

There he was, somehow managing to look insolent even with his back to him. He stood alone at the bank of elevators, pushing the button impatiently with a hand that trembled slightly, with anger, or fear or… something else… Jean could only guess.

_Adam._

_After all this time, he came back here. Just as you did._

Taking a deep pull on his inhaler, Jean wiped absently at the blood track on his cheek with the back of his knuckles, striding purposefully towards his quarry. He had no intention of letting him get away so easily. Not this time. Not again.

_Seven years… Seven is a lucky number..._

No more hesitation. He allowed the predator inside him to propel him quickly forward. Right up until he was pressed tightly against Adam’s back, crowding into his orbit, reveling in how he felt Adam suck in his breath, how he froze against him, one hand still on the elevator button which seemed unwilling to light up. Jean slipped one hand around Adam’s side, feeling that tight waist under his suit, circling around to drag up his chest to feel the breath caught there, the heart hammering heavy against his palm. He pulled Adam back, completely flush against his body. Now it was his turn to whisper, hot and close into his ear.

“You think I’d just let you walk away again?”

Adam recovered himself quickly, saying nothing at first but huffing out a low chuckle. Sharp, almost cruel, the small haughty noise was so purely _him_ , Jean almost lost his footing. He half expected the man to push him away, maybe lash out, but instead Adam let his body practically melt back against him, his head resting back onto his shoulder in a way that all but invited him to grip the pale column of his throat. Adam pushed his hips back, a tiny motion all things considered, but one that almost forced a groan from Jean’s lips.

_Attack with surrender. Only he has ever been a match for you._

“And what makes you think you get to give me orders after all this time, hmm?”

His voice was just the same, disdain and playfulness, challenge and invitation, it all rolled smoothly from his tongue. Jean practically growled against his ear.

“I don’t recall you minding so terribly. So long as there was… something in it for you?”

“Hmm, I do recall some lovely rewards. Is this a negotiation, _Le Chiffre_? It is Le Chiffre now, isn’t it? If it is, you’re showing your cards.”

Adam ground back against him once again, pushing his ass against Jean’s growing erection. The name hurt coming from him, dripping with disdain as it was. Jean moved swiftly, grabbing one wrist and pulling Adam around to face him, his other hand coming up to grip his face, pinning blazing blue to milk and amber.

“Don’t call me that. Not you.” He felt the tension ratchet up, danger and desire sparking in the space between them until Adam’s eyes faltered subtly, losing just a hint of their cruelty, and Jean felt something soften inside himself. He loosened his grip, just a fraction. But still, Adam wasn’t finished goading him…

“Are your hands still as good as they used to be? I’m willing to bet they are with all that card play.”

Jean let a slow, predatory smile spread across his face, gripping Adam’s face harder once again, both of them breathing heavily into the scant space between them.

“That mouth of yours was always good at getting you into trouble.”

Adam let out another low chuckle and dropped his eyes, straining to look down at the hand that gripped his face, his eyebrows twitching minutely when he registered the blood still streaked across the back of Jean’s head from his tear. Adam looked back at him, suggestively wetting his lower lip before snaking out his tongue to taste one red knuckle. This time, Jean couldn’t help the deep groan that escaped him.

“Now now, Jean, you know my mouth is good for more than that.”

_Oh god._

How long had it been since he had heard his real name uttered?

_This man._

He was breathless. It was like the world had stopped spinning. Like the last seven years had never happened and they were right back  where they had started.

Adam’s eyes searched his. And there… under the sneer, under the challenge, under the swagger, Jean could see it. Hope. He felt something crack inside him.

“You’re here.”

Adam nodded slowly in his grip. “I am.” His voice had lost some of its edge, almost a whisper. Jean could feel Adam’s heart hammering against him, in time with his own. Adam licked his lips again… Vulnerable.

The elevator suddenly let out its shrill _ping_ , the doors opening behind Adam onto an empty compartment, the spell broken only enough to send them rushing forward…

They collided in a clash of lips and teeth as Jean pushed Adam back into the elevator, slamming him against the mirror on the back wall. Adam’s mouth opened hungrily against his, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lips, his hands coming up to grip the back of Jean’s neck, tangling in his hair, pulling hard — Jean thought he might drown in his need right then and there.

Distantly he heard the doors close behind him but he couldn’t stop himself. It was Adam who wrenched himself away long enough to purr against his ear, “Where’s your room?”

“Penthouse.” It came out as a growl.

Adam hammered at the top button. “I should have known.”

Jean’s lips were already back on his throat, both hands gripping at Adam’s lapels to shove him back against the wall of the elevator. He licked a long stripe up to his ear to hover there, hot and close.

“I only want the best, and I mean to have it.”

“Well then,” Adam crooned as he reached one hand down to grip Jean’s already hard cock through his pants, coaxing a heavy groan from him he didn’t bother trying to quiet. “You’d better remember that in order to have the best, one must rise to the challenge.”

With that, Adam claimed his mouth again, a deep, slow kiss that seemed to drag everything out of him. The steady _whump whump whump_ of air as the elevator passed each floor somehow melded with the rush of blood in his ears as Jean pressed back against Adam’s hand, a low rumble building between them, coming from both of them now.

When the elevator doors opened, Jean noticed that Adam had already fished the key card out of his pocket. He hadn’t even noticed. _Cheeky_. Adam pushed him roughly aside to open the door. With his back turned, Jean took the chance to get a grip on himself, slicking his hair back from his face and straightened his jacket. He meant to savour this.

Adam pushed open the door and sauntered into Jean’s suite as if he owned the place, taking a big sweeping look around at the gilded columns and damask finery. He turned back to fix Jean in his sights once again.

“This room is ridiculous. Take off your clothes.”

Jean hesitated for only a second. He’d almost forgotten how demanding Adam was. _Perfection._ He kept his eyes fixed on him as he slowly took off his jacket, slinging it over a chair as he moved towards the bar.

“Is it still whisky?”  Jean stared Adam down as he loosened his tie, pulling it from his collar with a loud snap before slowly winding it between both fists and pulling it taut. “Or have your tastes changed since last we saw each other?”

Adam smirked but his lips trembled slightly. He made a show of pulling a small bottle of lube from his pocket as he stalked closer, eyes narrowing. Jean handed him his drink, which Adam traded for the lube, tossing the bottle in the air for Jean to catch neatly as Adam downed a deep swig of the whisky.

“Oh, my appetite is the same as ever. Perhaps a touch… hungrier these days. No one’s ever been able to satisfy it quite like you did. Your shirt.”

Adam put down his drink and reached out to take the tie from him, eyebrows raised. Jean smiled indulgently as he handed it over, not letting go of it right away as their fingers touched and their eyes caught. Adam twitched his eyebrows again. _Well_ ? _Get on with it_ …

Jean let go of the tie, put the lube down on the bar and undid his shirt, neither fast nor slow, eventually allowing it to fall from his shoulders and down to the floor, feeling Adam’s eyes on his chest. He remembered what it felt like to have Adam’s fingers pulling at his chest hair… it made his nipples harden just at the thought.

“Pants.”

Adam watched him hungrily as he removed the rest of his clothes, eyes roving openly over Jean’s naked body as he stood there, still and straight, allowing Adam to take his fill, neither of them feeling even the slightest shame.

“Now you.”

Jean knew Adam was ready for the tables to turn — his breath was coming faster, his hand rising to rub at the outline of his own cock, standing hard but still caged inside his pants, his other fist still gripping Jean’s tie tightly.

“Now, Adam.”

Jeans voice was quiet but hard. It was not a request. He saw how Adam responded to his tone, perhaps even to the sound of his name coming from Jean’s mouth again after all this time, just as it had felt for him. Like an electric current completing its circuit inside his veins.

Adam did as he was told, shedding his clothes quickly but somehow still managing to tease him with every movement. Eventually he stood naked, proud, hard and ready, the most beautiful thing Jean had ever laid eyes on.

 _Mine_.

“Bring it to me.” He motioned to the tie still gripped in Adam’s hand.

“Come and get it.” Defiant to the last.

_Flawless._

They let the tension string out for another breath, two, three… and then they both moved, clashing together again somewhere in the middle, mouths searching, hungry… _starving_. Jean knew there would be no stopping now — a thrill of fear in his gut that he rode on the crest of a deep, vicious kiss. For good or ill, this bet had been placed.

Adam tasted just as he remembered; the feel of his naked skin pressed against his own set off some deep resonance inside him, something he hadn’t fully allowed himself to admit how _much_ he’d missed, how much he’d missed _Adam_.

Adam’s nails bit into his shoulders as Jean forced him backwards towards the plush carpet in the centre of the room, his lips were already raw from Adam’s stubble. Jean reached down between them to take them both in hand, stroking them together; the feel of Adam’s hard cock, finally in his grip made him groan aloud. Adam joined him unabashedly, throwing his head back with a loud moan, never one to hide his desire.

“Hands. Behind you.”

It was like they’d never stepped out of this hotel, their dynamic returning to them so naturally. Adam complied, but not before dragging his palms down Jean’s chest, fingernails scratching over thick hair, digging at his skin. Clasping his hands firmly behind him, Adam dropped his head to lick and suck at Jean’s nipples, biting at him, rolling the raised nubs around with his tongue as he continued to thrust within Jean’s firm grip, rutting their cocks together.

Jean took the chance to slip the tie around Adam’s wrists, pulling up sharply, winding it around his fist, tighter and tighter. Adam let go of his nipple to loose a cry, forced up onto his toes, shoulders straining as his arms were pulled roughly back. Jean looked into Adam’s face. _Adam’s face, here, only inches from you._ He was biting his lip with pain and effort, but his eyes had rolled back, fluttering with pleasure.

“Look at me, Adam.”

Adam snapped his eyes open and locked onto him. Jean stroked them both before abruptly letting go. Adam groaned angrily at the loss of contact, pumping his hips greedily. Jean wrapped the tie securely around Adam’s wrists and pushed him to his knees, holding one hand out in front of Adam’s face, sliding his thumb briefly roughly over Adam’s kiss swollen lips.

“You wanted to know if my hands are as good as you remembered? Get it wet.”

Adam stared him down for a heartbeat, two, arms straining at Jean’s grip behind him.

 _Always that delicious defiance._..

But then Adam smiled, just as Jean knew he would — dangerous, playful, utterly ravenous… Adam let it spread across his face before dropping his gaze to Jean’s hand, licking his lips hungrily. His words were the whisper of a man speaking mostly to himself…

“You always did have the most perfect hands.”

He started slowly at first, clearly relishing it. Adam licked the smear of blood from Jean’s knuckles first, finishing the job he’d teased at earlier. His tongue traced the prominent network of veins on the back of Jean’s hand, slowly, methodically. It was like having his hand mapped by Adam’s tongue.

 _Claimed_.

Adam sucked Jean’s fingers into his mouth. Two at first, so deep Jean could feel the back of his throat, the hot, velvet softness of his tongue, then three fingers, four, Adam’s mouth stretching around him. The sound of it all, wet, hot, the tiny moans of pleasure Adam was making... Jean was utterly lost to it. His cock was impatient, so hard already, but he let Adam have his fill.

_Anything you want… Take it all._

Eventually Jean’s hand was sopping and Adam pulled away, looking up at him with eyes glazed with need. He was panting, face wet, eyes demanding.

“I want you inside me... I’ve waited... long enough.” He didn’t wait for a response, simply turned on his knees to face away from Jean, shoulders pressed to the carpet, head turned to one side.

The sight almost made Jean come on the spot. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Adam’s need, his demands, his fearlessness… the sheer _perfection_ of this man, it felt like it would rip him in two.

_This is what you were afraid of. All those years ago. This is why you cut him loose._

Jean looked down at the tie, still wrapped tightly around Adam’s wrists, clenched still at the small of his back. This was a choice, a tipping point. Cut him loose again, or follow it through... to make _this_ his life, instead of the hollowness he had built up around himself; to choose the life he could have had all this time if he hadn’t bet on the wrong hand. Perhaps his luck had changed?

“Now, Jean!”

_This is the only choice I ever want to make._

Jean knelt behind him.

He reached down between Adam’s legs, gripping his cock from behind, stroking him with his wet palm, working him steadily, twisting from balls to tip until Adam was moaning and pumping in time with him, his hands pulling at the tie, face and shoulders pushing into the carpet for leverage.

“Fuck my hand.”

Adam groaned and snapped his hips. Jean leaned forward, draping his body across Adam’s back, bound hands pressed between them, feeling the muscles of his back heave and twist as Adam rocked himself in his grip. The moan coming from him was building, a steady crescendo as Jean bit at his shoulders, down his flanks, finally burying his face in Adam’s ass and plunging his tongue deep inside him; no hesitation, relishing the almost feral cry the man let loose. Jean could feel it resonating through Adam’s body against his tongue.

_God, yes._

To taste him again, it was almost too much. Jean wasted no time. Adam was deliciously tight, but he drove his tongue deep inside, breaching him, lapping and sucking, all the while still squeezing and twisting around his cock as Adam pushed back against him, moaning loudly, thrusting into his palm, still slick with Adam’s saliva.

Jean pulled back, opening the lube with his teeth and pouring it all over his other hand. He pushed one wet finger in beside his tongue, stretching, twisting, sitting back again to watch Adam open to him… two fingers, three… four… still he pushed… Adam cried out again and again, open-mouthed and savage, pushing back hard against him. Jean knew that if he wanted to, he could tuck his thumb and push in all the way; that Adam would take it, that Adam would _want_ it… he had always loved to be filled like this, and Jean had not forgotten. Rough and fast… almost brutal.

_Brutality becomes us both._

Adam had always demanded as much as he could take, at all times, in all ways. But Jean kept him teetering on the edge; he wanted to save _something_ , hedging that one bet deep in his heart that there would be a _next time_. Instead, Jean found that hard knot of pleasure deep inside him, circling it with the pads of his fingers. Adam’s thighs were shaking and he was calling out his name over and over now, completely lost to his pleasure. Taking his fill.

“Fuck, Jean. Now. Fuck me now!”

Jean couldn’t wait anymore. They had both waited long enough. Too long. He knew this would happen fast, that neither of them could hold out much longer, but still he hesitated for a heartbeat longer. Part of him wanted to drag it out, afraid that once it was finished, he would lose everything all over again.

_No, not this time. He’s mine... if he’ll have me._

Jean was already leaking, his cock red and impossibly hard as he took himself in hand. He slicked his full length, taking a firm grip on Adam’s bound wrist with one hand, lining himself up. He drove himself in slow but steady, pushing deep, pulling back on the tie hard enough to lift Adam’s upper body up off the floor. They cried out together this time, something savage letting loose from them both as Jean began to fuck into him.

Adam’s shoulders strained forward, but he let Jean hold him there, both hands now gripping the tie for leverage. He set a punishing rhythm with no illusions that this could last very long… But Adam met him with every thrust. The pleasure was impossible. Jean’s body felt like it was on fire, like he was burning up from the inside, careening towards orgasm already.

Adam was practically keening now as he slammed back into him, his string of demands giving way to pleading.

“Yes Jean. Fuck. More. Please. Harder. Please. Please!”

Jean did as he was told, continuing his merciless rhythm, head thrown back, a savage growl rising at the back of his throat.

He knew what Adam wanted now. He knew how he wanted this to end. Without slowing his relentless pace, Jean lowered Adam’s upper body down to rest on the carpet and quickly untied his wrists. Adam groaned through gritted teeth as his palms dropped to the floor, pushing against it for leverage, shoulders undoubtedly protesting their sudden ability to move.

Jean folded over his back once more, hips snapping against him, lips against Adam’s ear. He slung an arm up and around the front of Adam’s shoulders, tie in hand, holding it to dangle in front of Adam’s face. He knew what he wanted, but Adam would have to say it.

“Tell me.”

For a second, Adam didn’t acknowledge it, continuing to rut back against him, his head thrown back, curls soaked in sweat…. Jean wondered momentarily if he was too far-gone to say anything at all, but then Adam craned his head around to look him directly in the eye. _Appraising_. Jean did his best to stare back, open, laid bare.

And there it was.  

 _Trust_.

Jean’s heart leapt as Adam gave a curt nod, his words a growl…

“Do it.”

 _Yes_.

Jean quickly reached both hands in front of Adam to catch the tie between them, twining it around both fists to shorten the length. He pulled it back, tight around Adam’s throat. Adam let his weight sink into it, a single groan of deep relief exhaling the last of his breath, his body pinned now between the tie and Jean’s vicious thrusts, his cries cut off now, Jean’s voice reverberating alone.

“Oh God. Adam.”

His orgasm was mounting, but he forced himself to hold on. Adam would soon come just from this, and Jean meant to give him everything he wanted. He kept a close eye on Adam’s face, pulling his body up and back against him with his grip on the tie. His eyes had rolled back, skin flushing red, but still he had a loose smile on his lips. His body was becoming more pliant by the second, almost limp now as Jean bounced him on his cock. He looked transcendent.

Jean raised his voice to make sure Adam could hear him.

“Adam. Adam! I want you to come for me.”

Adam’s mouth opened in a silent O, his head dropping back against Jean’s shoulder, muscles beginning to contract. Adam sucked in a great gulp of air as Jean dropped the tie and grabbed Adam’s cock, just as he came in thick, heavy spurts that coated his fingers.

The sight of it, the feel of Adam’s heavy cock twitching in his hand, sent Jean over the edge. He rocked into him one last time, hard and deep, biting down on Adam’s shoulder with a cry and coming harder than he ever had.

They stayed like that for a minute, both of them panting hard, Adam practically sitting in his lap. Jean felt him reach one arm back, pulling at his hair, cupping his cheek, the other hand gripping his thigh… as if Adam was reassuring himself of Jean’s reality as he struggled to come back to himself. Jean knew how he felt.

Finally they collapsed into a sweaty, sticky heap, still fighting to regain their breath. It was Adam who huffed a low chuckle first. He sounded spent but happy. He sat up with a groan, legs splayed out in front of him, resting back on his hands and looking down at Jean with an impossibly perfect expression on his face, half smug, half vulnerable.

Jean gazed up at him with unabashed affection. There was no reason not to say it now…

“I should never have cut you loose all those years ago… I was a fool.”

Adam didn’t mince words, a shadow behind his eyes. “Why did you come back here?”

Jean let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been coming back here every year since… but you were never here. I never completely gave up the idea of seeing you again... the hope that maybe I could take it all back.”

“You can’t take back a bad bet just because you fucked up. Seven years is a long time. It’s not like I was going to wait for you.”

Jean felt his stomach drop. He had nothing to say but the truth. “Laugh if you want Adam, but it was as if you _were_ my luck. When you were gone, everything… turned, and not for the better…”

“Maybe you deserved it?” Adam cut him off, but his tone wasn’t exactly cruel. Jean searched his eyes, hoping that Adam could see the truth in his, in one of them at least. He could feel a blood tear beginning to spill from the other.

“You don’t believe in that moralistic shit anymore than I do. Adam, I have never been what other people would consider a _good man,_ and I never will be. But… after you were gone… I did things…”

Adam stopped him with a firm finger against his lips and a soft, but somehow still brazen smile. He wiped the blood from under Jean’s eye with his thumb and sucked on it, almost thoughtfully.

“Neither of us are what others would consider _good men._ But since when does fortune favour the good?”  That smirk again, turned squarely on him...  “Maybe your luck has changed?”

“Perhaps.” Jean couldn’t help but cast Adam a hopeful look.

“Jean… You know I came back here too, don’t you? I came back here every single year, and every year I would kick myself when you didn’t show. But I kept coming back anyway. I guess I’m a masochist through and through. But the timing… our _luck_ … it just... wasn’t on our side. Not then. But maybe it is now.”

Jean felt his heart swell in his chest. His fingertips sought out Adam’s sweaty skin, one last reassurance of the odds, of all the possibilities. He had almost forgotten what this felt like, the warmth of it… this feeling he hadn’t dreamed of finding again, hadn’t wanted to. It was a feeling he was already afraid to lose, but still...

_Big wins only come from big risk._

“Love is a high stakes game.”  Jean looked over to Adam as he said it, watching as the words sent a beautiful flush through his pale skin.

Adam smirked and let out a low chuckle, shaking his head indulgently before pushing him back to the floor and straddling him, a strong hand going to his throat, that provocative grin never leaving his face.

“But you always win in the end, don’t you, Jean? Might as well go all in.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, THANK YOU FOR READING! Kudos and friendly comments are magical, and you are magical for leaving them! 
> 
> Come flail at me about Hannibal on [Tumblr](https://thisismydesignhannibal.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> Also, thanks to whoever made the manip I used in my header! I found it on google but it didn't link through to the original creator. It's lovely though!


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